


Gotta Have an Edge

by yet_intrepid



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Jyn Erso-centric, Luke Skywalker is a Good Friend, POV Jyn Erso, Tatooine Culture (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:55:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27146948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yet_intrepid/pseuds/yet_intrepid
Summary: Jyn's had more than one run-in with captivity since Saw ditched her. If she grits her teeth enough, maybe she can believe this one won't be any different: some bullshit, an escape, nothing and no one worth remembering.But Luke is annoyingly worth remembering.
Relationships: Jyn Erso & Luke Skywalker
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31
Collections: Good Intentions: Abandoned and Unfinished WIPs





	Gotta Have an Edge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thenewbacklog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenewbacklog/gifts).



> Title is from "Pocket Knife" by Bronze Radio Return: _if you wanna make a point / then you've gotta have an edge / like a pocket, pocket, pocket knife._
> 
> Originally envisioned as part of a longer piece involving (what else) Tatooinian revolts, but you'll just have to trust them to get out of this :)

Jyn isn't prone to self-pity. It's not a practical thing, and she's long since learned that it's more helpful to start figuring her way out of a situation than to lament the fact that she's in it. But as the open hoverwagon she's chained in rumbles its way deeper into the desert, she lets herself have a moment to appreciate just how much this sucks.

First off, she’s captured. Again. A bounty hunter she swindled a few months back caught up to her, traded her off to some Hutt in the Outer Rim. Asshole, Jyn thinks, but he was a good kisser. He almost made it hard to stay focused on stealing his stash of credits.

Two, she’s not just captured, she’s chipped. That’s new. She isn’t sure how an escape is going to work when she’s been turned into a living bomb, but she’ll think about that later. She has a contact in Mos Eisley, someone who’ll get her off-world if she can get herself away from the Hutt. Jyn guesses they won’t chase her too hard, especially if they assume she’s blown herself up.

The hoverwagon makes a dangerous whine, and Jyn lifts a skeptical eyebrow. She doesn’t want to get where they’re going, but she’s pretty sure getting stranded in the Jundland Wastes would be even worse.

Because three—fuck, it’s _hot_ here. It’s hot and it’s dry and she doesn’t have any water beyond what they give her, because she had to forgo her canister in favor of making sure she kept her knife and her necklace. That boot compartment was a good investment, but it wasn’t going to fit a waterbottle.

The green dude who’s driving the hoverwagon—a Gamorrean, maybe? Jyn isn’t sure of the species name—curses and hits the ignition with a dangerously large hand. The hoverwagon stops whining and speeds up.

Jyn breathes out in relief, then uses her cuffed hands to awkwardly wipe her sweat-drenched face. Around her, the sand gleams back at the sun, and tall metal structures jab into the merciless sky; Jyn shuts her eyes against the glare. Damn, it’s hot. Jedha was a desert, sure, but not like this. It was cold and dry, the kind of planet that’d leave your lips chapped and your skin wind-raw. But Tatooine—well. It can go fuck itself, that’s what. With a cactus if it has one, with one of those blindingly reflective metal spikes if not.

Jyn winces at her own image. Those things would probably burn you at a touch. She’s already got marks around her wrists from the cuffs, not because they’re tight but just because they’re metal. She can’t stand it. They’d better put her to work soon or she’s going to find a way to strangle herself just so she can get away from the fucking heat of these cuffs.

The hoverwagon stops again. Jyn opens her eyes into the glare to see if it seems like they’ve arrived somewhere, but nothing looks any different. The green guard dude punches at the vehicle again, then curses some more and clambers off, yelling at Jyn and the other prisoners around her.

Four—Jyn’s not that great at Huttese. She can swear in it, sure; everybody who’s lived on the wrong side of the law can do that. She can buy food if she’s got a patient vendor, and she can count to twenty. But the green guard dude has a thick accent and she can’t understand a word he’s saying.

And she’s pretty sure if she doesn’t learn, she’s going to regret it hard.

But the rest of the prisoners are getting up, too, following the guard out of the wagon, and Jyn figures they probably are obeying orders, so she licks her dry lips and stands. The cuffs shift as she does, burning against a new patch of skin.

“Fuck,” Jyn mutters. For a moment, she remembers swearing in front of her father one time when she was little, and how gently he told her those words are for grown-ups. But she shoves the memory aside. She might be seventeen, but she’s not a goddamn kid. Profanity is probably the most age-appropriate thing she has in her life.

Jyn steps out of the hovertruck, tripping a little on the steps, and stands in a huddle with the other captives until the guard yells again, cuffs someone's ear, and points them towards a bunch of the shiny metal things and a small, rocky dome emerging from the sand. The huddle begins obediently shuffling that direction, and the guards grab two of them at a time, assigning them to a shiny metal thing.

Jyn really needs to figure out what those are called. And what she's doing here. And how she's getting out.

When it's Jyn's turn to get shoved towards a metal thing, the guards uncuff her and give her some stern warning she doesn't understand. Jyn nods, tries to look compliant. It's best that the green dudes underestimate her, after all.

Just like the others, she discards her cuffs into the truck and steps towards the shiny thing. Unlike the others, she's the only one assigned. And as the truck moves on, she sees why.

Around the other side of the rounded spike, there's someone crouching in the sand. He's dressed in the loose white clothes that seem common to humans here, and he looks up at her with a worn smile.

"Ever worked with vaporators?" he asks in Basic.

"With what?" Jyn says. She doesn't know what she's supposed to be doing, and frankly, she's still just stunned to see him there: smiling, golden-haired, talking to her.

"Moisture vaporators," he repeats. "That's what we're fixing here. This one needs a filter change, some new wires, and maybe a replacement tube or two if they'll let us have any."

"Who are you," says Jyn.

"Oh, sorry," the kid says. He stands up and she get a real look at him. He's got to be her age, maybe even younger. "Luke Skywalker. Indentured."

He holds out a hand. She offers hers in turn, glancing at the burns on her wrist.

"Lianna," she tells him as she shakes his hand.

"Indenture or permanent?" he asks, almost casually, and bends over the shiny metal vaporator thing again.

"What do you mean?" Jyn says.

"You know," he says. "Your status. Whether they chipped you."

"That's a pretty personal question," Jyn snaps.

"Sorry," Luke says again, this time with more weight and less enthusiasm. "I forget. You're not from here, are you?"

"Nope." She crouches next to him. "Just show me what to do, okay? Those guards don't seem too fond of jabber."

Luke laughs. Laughs, in this hellish sand-waste. Jyn wants to smack him.

"I may be new," she says, "but I'm not some—some fuckwit you can mess with. Okay? Show me how to do the work and leave me alone."

He looks back up at her, his face fallen. Jyn wonders how long he's been here, wonders if he's lonely. Wonders if he's got a family—

And then she shoves all her wonderings into a convenient mental trash receptacle and smashes them to bits.

Luke knows his shit, Jyn admits, once he's given her the rundown of what to do and look for. He's got a handle on the ins and outs of a vaporator, and he's decent at explaining. Patient, too, for the most part, even if he does sometimes look at her like she's the backwater kid instead of him. It's not her fault she's spent the last couple years in civilized places that don't have to collect condensation in order to survive.

Still, she likes him. She also kind of wants to throw things at him for being a dumbass farmboy, but she likes him. If she has to be here, if she has to wait this out until she can dig the chip from her skin, she might as well hang around with someone who can keep her spirits up.

There's no harm in him being her age, either. Jyn hasn't had a lot of other teens for company, just like she didn't have many kids around when she was one herself. It gets old. Boring. And Luke may be dumb, naive, way too smiley for anyone serving Jabba the Hutt on this asswipe of a planet, but he is not boring.

The vaporator takes the better part of an hour to fix. Jyn has the feeling she does more harm than good in the process, but she does her best to learn. Who knows if she'll be paired up with Luke again next time? There could be consistent assignments here or it could be randomized, designed to prevent people from forming bonds and crafting plans. That'd be the smarter way. But the green guards don't seem too smart, so Jyn lets herself hold on to a bit of optimism.

"How'd you get here?" Luke asks, when he's done tinkering with the wires and filter.

"Like I said," Jyn retorts, "personal question." She hands him the screwdriver he asked her to hold.

"Come on," Luke complains. "I'll tell you how I did."

"Not interested," says Jyn.

He looks at her, face way too earnest for his wary posture, for a long moment before shrugging and giving up. "Hey, time for the fun part. We get to ask for a replacement for this thing—" he waves a rusted-out pipe the size of her pointer finger— "and get yelled at either for making them spend money or else for not noticing it sooner. What's your bet?"

Five, she adds to her earlier list. It sucks that this is where she finally finds someone who's weird in a way that makes her comfortable, and who seems to want her around even though she's hardly any use. The long-ignored squirmy loneliness inside her settles into an odd peace, like a lizard on a rock.

When she manages to escape, Jyn thinks, she'll honestly kind of miss this guy.


End file.
